


The Place of the Two of Us

by MxMearcstapa



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Feelings Realization, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28299744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxMearcstapa/pseuds/MxMearcstapa
Summary: “I’d never make y—the group worry over me. I can hold my own, as you well know.”“I do,” Ike said. He looked away, into the horizon, and then back at Soren. A faint blush, the color of the apple, spread across his cheeks. “But I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too.”Soren could not hold his gaze. He looked back at the apple in his hands. Which was it exactly? Ike or the Greil Mercenaries? There had never been a conflict before. Ike had always been the Greil Mercenaries for him.---In which Soren considers his feelings for Ike.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	The Place of the Two of Us

**Author's Note:**

> "Hey, wait, this isn't Three Houses--"
> 
> Written for the EmblemCon Discord Secret Sothis event, for Queen of Beans!
> 
> Setting is between Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn :3

Crimea territory never had suited Soren. The royal library was something unique, something of interest. But the rest of Crimea was much the same as any other country: woods, water, sky, and worst of all: people. The architecture was interesting, certainly, and the land itself was not wholly unpleasant. Lush green hills, sparkling waters, densely-wooded forests. But the sun, the moon, the winds—these things were always the same. If anything, Soren preferred the outdoors to the indoors; anywhere people weren’t was better than where people were.

All but one person, at least.

Soren heard Ike’s heavy footfalls before he saw Ike himself—that bulk and bluntness had never been suited to stealth, not that Ike had ever cared much for such indirectness. He willed himself to keep looking forward, to feign that he had not heard Ike’s approach.

As though he had not gone as taught as a drawn bowstring the moment he heard those footsteps. As though his pulse were not cantering in his chest. 

“Soren!” Ike called, and finally, he allowed himself to turn. Ike was smiling in the morning sun, and Soren considered the idea that maybe, _maybe_ , the sun was not the same in every location. Maybe in some places it was a little brighter. There was something in Ike’s hand, something small and red nestled in his fist. He waved it, then tossed it underhand to Soren. By some extraordinary stroke of circumstance, Soren caught it.

An apple.

As Ike drew closer, Soren saw he was holding a small cloth sack. Presumably it contained more food, if the grease stains were anything to go by.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Ike asked, taking a seat on the grass next to him. He unfolded the cloth sack in front of them. Soren’s theory proved correct: food. His heart broke into a gallop, and he grasped for the reins. Forced himself to slow. He had not lost himself in a long time, and he was not about to start now.

Soren shook his head and allowed himself a small smile in return. “Thank you, Ike.”

He bit into the apple. Sweet. Sweeter than he expected. Perhaps because of who brought it?

_No—don’t go there._

The apple was sweet because sometimes apples were when they were provided the right resources, and that was all there was to it.

“If you don’t eat, you’re likely to pass out,” Ike said, eyes crinkling with his smile. “And we can’t have that.”

_He means to tease me,_ Soren thought. Normally, he would not rise to the bait—he had never seen the point, exactly—but something about the sweetness of the apple, or the look on Ike’s face, or the waft of the wind emboldened him.

Soren tried a smirk and hoped it landed. “Afraid you’ll have to carry me?”

Would that he could’ve taken the words back immediately, because the idea of Ike carrying him sent such a tremor through Soren that he nearly dropped the apple.

Ike actually laughed, a short, surprised bark, and Soren looked for the nearest and largest rock to crawl under.

“I’d carry you anywhere, Soren. But try not to pass out anyway. The Greil Mercenaries need their tactician in top shape.”

Right. The _mercenaries_ needed him. Something in his chest hardened a little.

“I’d never make y—the group worry over me. I can hold my own, as you well know.”

“I do,” Ike said. He looked away, into the horizon, and then back at Soren. A faint blush, the color of the apple, spread across his cheeks. “But I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too.”

Soren could not hold his gaze. He looked back at the apple in his hands. Which was it exactly? Ike or the Greil Mercenaries? There had never been a conflict before. Ike had always _been_ the Greil Mercenaries for him.

“I will,” Soren got out. “I am.”

“Good,” Ike said, and Soren looked at him. A mistake. Ike was smiling that funny half-smile that wrinkled his nose, the face he made when he thought something was humorous but when he was thinking about something else, too.

Soren is smart. He is adept at reading a situation, at anticipating actions and reactions, at understanding what others are thinking—his usefulness as tactician hinges on it. But here in this moment, on a hill in the sunshine in Crimea, he could not tell what Ike was thinking, and it shook him down to the marrow of his bones.

Ike opened his mouth to speak. Soren took another bite of the apple, a bite so uncharacteristically large that he surprised himself. But it stopped Ike from voicing whatever thought he was dwelling on, and perhaps that was all Soren wanted anyway. There were too many questions to answer, too many of his own thoughts to sort through before he was ready to listen. Ike had accepted so much about him so far. There had to be a limit of what he could accept in total. There were always limits with people.

All but, perhaps, one person.

The apple lodged in his throat. Soren coughed, thumping his chest in an effort to clear his airway. A solid palm to his back did the trick, and he spit the piece out onto the grass in front of them. Ike. It was Ike. Ike had helped him. Ike’s broad hands had once again saved him. They were still there, warm against the fabric of his tunic.

Soren covered his face, slowly breathing in and out.

“Are you okay?” Ike asked. “Did I hurt you?”

Soren didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head. Still covering his face, he mumbled, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it,” was Ike’s response. Soren could hear the smile in his voice. Where was that rock he was going to hide under again? “You should take smaller bites.”

Soren looked up sharply and cleared his throat. “Is dictating my eating habits part of your job as commander?”

Ike threw his head back and laughed so loudly that Soren nearly got up and returned to camp. Anyone else, he would have left. Anyone else’s laugh would not have made him want to stay. The sound of Ike’s laugh, so free and full, after all that had transpired since Commander Greil’s death, was almost worth the embarrassment Soren had suffered to hear it. Almost.

“I should hope not,” Ike snickered. He wiped a tear from his eye. “I have enough to worry about as is. I can’t imagine being responsible for anything more.”

“You’d handle it,” Soren told him. “You’ve handled everything so far.”

The smile Ike presented him was even brighter than the sun. “Only because I’ve got you by my side, Soren.”

Soren felt his heart race again, and he let it. There were many things he needed to sort through yet, many things about him and Ike both. But for now, maybe the meaning was not as important as simply _being_.

Maybe just being near Ike was enough for now.


End file.
